The Loser
by Amarth Obstreperous
Summary: Just a short story about a Superhero whose talent is that she knows alot about LOTR and uses it to drive people crazy. R&R!


This story was written during a creative writing class at my summer camp.  
  
We were ordered to make a list of our talents, then to pick one and write a story about ourselves being superheroes using that talent.  
  
After re-reading my list, I decided that either I was really boring, or I had a lack of self-esteem.  
  
I decided to write my superhero story using my LOTR-knowledge talent, on account of the fact that my other talents were kind of stupid. (e.g. winking, reading, writing, staying up late).  
  
Plus, I already did use this particular talent as a weapon.  
  
Namely, to drive people crazy.  
  
(Concerning the name of my superhero identity, a fellow creative writer by the name of Lucy suggested to me. The previous day, she had been forced to listen to my explanation of how Middle-earth began . Thus, she was on a very short fuse concerning LOTR.)  
  
******************************  
  
"Stop, thief!" The woman screamed as the two bank robbers fled the scene of the crime, carrying large backpacks stuffed with money. They raced across the street, threw the money into the backseat of their running car, jumped in and screamed for the driver to floor it. As a squadron of police cars arrived at the scene of the crime, the robbers' car drove out of sight.  
  
The police tailed them for a while, but soon the chase led to open country and the bank robbers managed to swerved down a forest road and the police cars drove right past them. (A/N: Like in the scene from the movie 'Bandits') The police continued to drive, but soon realized they weren't chasing anybody anymore, and the leader called for all the cars to stop. Angrily, Officer McGee climbed out of his patrol car and slammed his hand down on the hood.  
  
"Damn it!" He exclaimed. "We lost them!"  
  
McGee's deputy climbed out of the car.  
  
"What now, Chief?" He asked nervously, wringing his hands a little.  
  
"We'll never catch them now," Officer McGee said, furrowing his brow. "I have no choice."  
  
He abruptly walked back to the patrol car and picked up that walkie talkie/telephone/radio thing that police cars have.  
  
He punched in a phone number: 1-800-F-E-L-L-O-W-S-H-I-P.  
  
He put the walkie-talkie to his ear and waited.  
  
"Yeah, hi. This is Officer William McGee speaking," He said into the walkie-talkie. "We got some bogies, they just robbed a bank and managed to ditch my squad. We figure they went off North Road onto some secret route and we went right past. How many? Three, two who held the bank up and one who drove the getaway car. They stole an estimated twenty thousand in cash."  
  
Officer McGee cocked his head as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.  
  
"You will?" He said happily. "That's great. Just drop them off at police headquarters after you find them. We can get their car later. Okay? Thanks."  
  
Suddenly, McGee frowned.  
  
"Namarie? What the hell does that mean? Oh, goodbye? Well, goodbye to you too."  
  
Officer McGee hung up the walkie-talkie and shut his eyes.  
  
"May God have mercy on their souls." He remarked to no one in particular.  
  
~~~  
  
Meanwhile, the bank robbers were doing splendidly. They had traveled down the wood road until they were sure they weren't being followed, then had doubled back onto a secret route. They were now driving on a deserted rural highway.  
  
"Yeah!" Shouted the driver of the vehicle, named John Delansky. "We so dodged them! Easiest job we ever pulled!"  
  
Yeah Boss, that was cool." Remarked Davy Van Dreek, the man sitting in the back.  
  
Alvin Divine, the leader of this robber gang, merely nodded and settled more comfortably into the well-worn leather of the shotgun seat. He smiled. Things were indeed well. They had gotten away clean, with a good haul. Nothing could stop them now.  
  
Suddenly, the car was jerked sharply to a halt. Before John Delansky could figure out what was going on, a pair of giant talons ripped a hole in the roof, and more or less tore the car in two.  
  
As Alvin Divine leaped out of the scrap pile that used to be considered an automobile, the talons lifted both Delansky and Van Dreek from their seats. Screaming, they pulled their guns out but were immediately shaken so vigorously by the talons that they dropped their firearms. As they continued to scream, the talons dumped then unceremoniously in the dust. They crouched together, whimpering and too scared to move.  
  
Alvin Divine stared. Perched on the remains of his car was a giant brown eagle. Clinging to the eagle's back was a girl. She was wearing a green shirt, suspenders and a pair of brown corduroy pants that only came up to just below her knees. She wore no shoes, and a blue wizard's hat was plopped on her head. Under her arm, she carried a thick book with red leather covers. She looked impatient.  
  
"What the hell is that?!" Screamed Van Dreek, pointing a shaking finger at the giant eagle.  
  
The eagle glared at him.  
  
"*Who* the heck is that," Corrected the girl, patting the eagle on the head. "This is Gwaihir the Windlord, King of the Eagles and beloved of the Valar. He carried Gandalf three times, once from Orthanc to Rohan, then from Moria to Lorien, then from Minas Morgul to Mount Doom."  
  
"WHAT?!" Said Van Dreek, very much confused.  
  
"I had him Fed-Exed from Weta Digital." The girl said proudly.  
  
"Wait, hold on." Divine said. "Forget the eagle. Who are you?"  
  
The girl slid off the eagle's back and put her hands on her hips.  
  
"I am The Loser. I am a superhero. You are bad guys and I am here to stop you."  
  
The three robbers started at the girl for two seconds, then burst into peals of laughter.  
  
Red faced, Loser stepped forward.  
  
"Who was Deagol?" She asked, smiling sweetly.  
  
The robbers stopped laughing.  
  
"What?" Asked John Delansky.  
  
"Well, I'll tell you." Loser said. "He is, or rather was, a Stoor from the West side of the Anduin, the Welsh version of his name being *Nahald*, or secret. Which is well and good, because his body was never found. He was strangled for the One Ring, which had been previously owned by the Dark Lord Sauron, former right hand man of Morgoth Bauglir, at lest until the Valar locked him in the void. Deagol's friend Smeagol, who would later become Gollum, did the murderous act. This is the very same Gollum that Bilbo Baggins of the Shire would meet in the Misty Mountains after being dropped by Nori the dwarf while escaping from the Gobli-"  
  
Delansky was the first to break down.  
  
"AHHHHHH!!!!!" He screamed, writhing on the ground. "I can't stand it anymore! Make it stop! Too.much.information!"  
  
As he screamed, The Loser smiled.  
  
"Weakling." She sneered, taking a pair of handcuffs out of her back pocket. She motioned to Gwaihir, who deftly flew from his perch and daintily plucking the handcuffs from Loser's hand, flew over to Delansky and cuffed him.  
  
Grinning, Loser opened her big telephone-directory-sized book.  
  
"Okay. Who knows what happened at Weathertop on October the Sixth?"  
  
Within five minutes, Davy Van Dreek was cuffed and screaming on the ground, much in the same state as Delansky.  
  
Alvin Divine licked his lips nervously. His face was white and sweat dripped from his pores. He tried to reach for his gun, but his arms felt too heavy. Loser smiled at him.  
  
"Had enough?"  
  
Divine scowled.  
  
"You'll never take me alive!"  
  
"Really?" Loser raised her eyebrows. "My good sir, I have before me an entire copy of Lord of the Rings, plus a plethora of facts and names from The Hobbit, The Simarillion and Lost Tales stored in my head. No one except the devout worshippers of Tolkien have ever been able to withstand my lectures. Now, will you save yourself a lot of grief and come with me quietly?"  
  
Divine's face twisted in anger and fear.  
  
"NEVER!!!!!" He screamed. Loser shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"Very well then. Now, let's see. I'll skip to the appendix. How would you like to know the entire family trees of all four Fellowship hobbits?"  
  
~~~  
  
Around five O' clock that evening, Officer McGee was sitting at his desk, playing solitaire. His shift had been over since 4:50, but he had decided to wait a little while longer. Just in case.  
  
Suddenly, he heard large flapping noises outside, accompanied by shouts and yells of astonishment. Smiling, Officer McGee raced outside.  
  
Gwaihir sat perched on a nearby patrol car. Loser had slid down from his back and was now standing next to the car, with a smug expression on her face.  
  
Piled on top of Gwaihir's back, were three unconscious forms. They were all handcuffed, and had been tied securely to the giant eagle with lots of Lorien rope.  
  
Still looking smug, Loser put out a hand.  
  
"Rope, untwine and drop your cargo!"  
  
Faster than the eye could see, the rope had untied itself, and the bodies of the three robbers had fallen onto the ground in a heap.  
  
"Wonderful stuff, that Elvish rope is, isn't it?" Loser winked at Officer McGee as she climbed back onto Gwaihir's back.  
  
"Thank you very much." McGee said, saluting and making a small bow.  
  
"No problem," Loser said. "By the way, you'd better treat those thugs carefully. They're a little unstable after what I put them through. Might get sanity plea in the courts."  
  
With that, Gwaihir spread his wings and flapped away.  
  
***********************************  
  
Was that good? Tell me! R&R  
  
And if you think I've just insulted Tolkien's work by reducing it to a method of torture, then don't bother telling me. I already know. A person with no sense of humour pointed it out to me. : ) 


End file.
